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Varney the Vampire 2(42)

By:Thomas Preskett Prest
 
Sir Francis Varney might have intended it as a jest; but if he did so, in the first instance, it was evident he would not allow himself to be beaten with his own weapons.
 
The room into which they were shown was a longish narrow one; a very wide door gave them admission to it, at the end, nearest the staircase, and at its other extremity there was a similar door opening into some other apartments of the house.
 
Sir Francis Varney sat with his back towards this second door, and a table, with some chairs and other articles of furniture, were so arranged before him, that while they seemed but to be carelessly placed in the position they occupied, they really formed a pretty good barrier between him and his visitors.
 
The admiral, however, was too intent upon getting a sight of Varney, to notice any preparation of this sort, and he advanced quickly into the room.
 
And there, indeed, was the much dreaded, troublesome, persevering, and singular looking being who had caused such a world of annoyance to the family of the Bannerworths, as well as disturbing the peace of the whole district, which had the misfortune to have him as an inhabitant.
 
If anything, he looked thinner, taller, and paler than usual, and there seemed to be a slight nervousness of manner about him, as he slowly inclined his head towards the admiral, which was not quite intelligible.
 
"Well," said Admiral Bell, "you invited me to breakfast, and my learned friend; here we are."
 
"No two human beings," said Varney, "could be more welcome to my hospitality than yourself and Dr. Chillingworth. I pray you to be seated. What a pleasant thing it is, after the toils and struggles of this life, occasionally to sit down in the sweet companionship of such dear friends."
 
He made a hideous face as he spoke, and the admiral looked as if he were half inclined to quarrel at that early stage of the proceedings.
 
"Dear friends!" he said; "well, well--it's no use squabbling about a word or two; but I tell you what it is, Mr. Varney, or Sir Francis Varney, or whatever your d----d name is--"
 
"Hold, my dear sir," said Varney--"after breakfast, if you please--after breakfast."
 
He rang a hand-bell as he spoke, and the woman who had charge of the house brought in a tray tolerably covered with the materials for a substantial morning's meal. She placed it upon the table, and certainly the various articles that smoked upon it did great credit to her culinary powers.
 
"Deborah," said Sir Varney, in a mild sort of tone, "keep on continually bringing things to eat until this old brutal sea ruffian has satiated his disgusting appetite."
 
The admiral opened his eyes an enormous width, and, looking at Sir Francis Varney, he placed his two fists upon the table, and drew a long breath.
 
"Did you address those observations to me," he said, at length, "you blood-sucking vagabond?"
 
"Eh?" said Sir Francis Varney, looking over the admiral's head, as if he saw something interesting on the wall beyond.
 
"My dear admiral," said Mr. Chillingworth, "come away."
 
"I'll see you d----d first!" said the admiral. "Now, Mr. Vampyre, no shuffling; did you address those observations to me?"
 
"Deborah," said Sir Francis Varney, in silvery tones, "you can remove this tray and bring on the next."
 
"Not if I know it," said the admiral "I came to breakfast, and I'll have it; after breakfast I'll pull your nose--ay, if you were fifty vampyres, I'd do it."
 
"Dr. Chillingworth," said Varney, without paying the least attention to what the admiral said, "you don't eat, my dear sir; you must be fatigued with your night's exertions. A man of your age, you know, cannot be supposed to roll and tumble about like a fool in a pantomime with impunity. Only think what a calamity it would be if you were laid up. Your patients would all get well, you know."
 
"Sir Francis Varney," said Mr. Chillingworth, "we're your guests; we come here at your invitation to partake of a meal. You have wantonly attacked both of us. I need not say that by so doing you cast a far greater slur upon your own taste and judgment than you can upon us."
 
"Admirably spoken," said Sir Francis Varney, giving his bands a clap together that made the admiral jump again. "Now, old Bell, I'll fight you, if you think yourself aggrieved, while the doctor sees fair play."
 
"Old who?" shouted the admiral.
 
"Bell, Bell--is not your name Bell?--a family cognomen, I presume, on account of the infernal clack, clack, without any sense in it, that is the characteristic of your race."